


Every True Thing

by dirigibleplumbing



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bickering, Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together, Humor, Inexperienced Steve Rogers, M/M, Much to both Steve and Tony's unspoken disappointment, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pet Names, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Freeform, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reconciliation, There are actually two beds, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18501223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirigibleplumbing/pseuds/dirigibleplumbing
Summary: After escaping captivity, Steve and Tony go to a safe house. Ordinarily, it would just be boring. But they’ve both been dosed with truth serum….





	Every True Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed. All mistakes my own.
> 
> This takes place sometime after an imaginary Avengers 4 where everyone works together to defeat Thanos and reset the Snap and everyone lives. It was written and published before the movie came out so it doesn't take anything shown in the actual movie into account.
> 
> A fill for the "truth drug/spell" square on my Stony bingo card.

“Well, at least this safehouse isn’t too much of a shithole,” Tony says, barely managing not to add, _I’ve stayed worse places._ He retracts the armor into his arc reactor and flops onto the nearest bed. The place is clean, if a little small, a little impersonal, like a motel room. Also like a motel room, it has two double beds, with a framed impressionist still life hanging on the wall between them. “Can you imagine the two of us, huddled in some tiny cabin with just one bed?”

Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed. He’s pulled the cowl back, but otherwise looks ready to spring back into battle at any moment. He doesn’t say, _Yes, I’m imagining it right now_. Instead he growls, “I’d rather not discuss it.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. They’re still dosed with whatever so-called truth serum AIM stuck them with and fighting the compulsion to say everything that springs into their heads _._ They figured out early on that while the stuff makes them more inclined to say every stray thought out loud, most of all when faced with a direct question, they can get around it as long as they say something else truthful, like why they’d rather not answer the question. It gets more difficult with persistent questioning, so they’d agreed not to ask each other any. Tony foresees a lot of “I” statements in his future. “What would you rather discuss, then?”

Steve huffs, manages to only say, “How about how we’re getting out of here,” and stop talking after that.

Tony pushes himself upright and starts checking the drawers of the nightstand and dresser. So far all he’s found is a bible and a phone book. “Nothing to discuss, really. This is the safehouse where the team will expect us to be. We wait for them to pick us up, then we join in the fun mopping up that AIM base. Christ, there really isn’t a tablet or phone or _anything_ in this dump.”

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

Tony shrugs. “Why, you got something in mind?”

He doesn’t look up from the desk he’s rummaging through—it contains nothing but a blank, unlined notepad and some cheap ballpoint pens—so he misses the rapid series of facial expressions Steve cycles through before he says, “We agreed not to ask direct questions, Stark.”

Tony tries to say, _You started it_ , but what comes out instead is the more precise, “You just asked _me_ one.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Steve snaps. He doesn’t say _I’m sorry_. If he lets that slip out, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop saying it.

“An adorable, precocious child,” Tony says reflexively. “You love it.”

Steve’s jaw works. He doesn’t say, _Yes, I do_.

Tony gives up searching the room and sinks back onto a bed. “We could talk to each other.” He doesn’t say _Please talk to me, I miss you, I’m trying, I promise I’m trying, I don’t know how to make it right._ He glances at Steve’s tense expression. “That’s a no, I take it. Well. We have pen and paper. Hangman?”

Steve looks, if possible, even more tense than before. “No thank you.” He sits down stiffly on the other bed. “Give me a pen and half the paper. I’ll start writing my report.”

“For real?” Tony asks, but hands it to him. He doesn’t say, _You’d rather do paperwork than talk to me?_

“Yes,” is all Steve lets himself say, settling the small pad onto his lap. He doesn’t say _I don’t trust myself like this around you_ , but he thinks he probably doesn’t need to.

Tony grumbles, but decides he can work on some designs with pen and paper. He opens his mouth to say, _I miss walking around the tower and finding you working in your sketchbook. I always liked watching you when you draw. The expressions you’d make, like you thought that if you could feel a look on your face you could capture it on paper. The way your hands moved, how your shoulders would start to finally drop and relax._

He doesn’t say it, though. He closes his mouth and scribbles the ballpoint onto the pad a bit to get it working left-handed.

Tony tries to lay out a diagram of a new vambrance configuration for the armor, but can’t get the pen to work quite right for it, and instead works on copying out a section of code for the new StarkPhone operating system that’s been giving him some trouble.

Steve slowly starts drafting a report. He finds he can’t lie on paper, either.

He writes a couple paragraphs of dry narration, painstakingly neutral in its contents. When he starts a new page, he tries an experiment. He attempts to write _Iron Man fights only for himself_ . What comes out instead is, _Tony Stark is braver than Captain America._

He furiously scribbles over it and attempts to return to the report. _AIM injected us both with a substance they claimed was a truth serum,_ he writes. _However, before they returned to interrogate us, Iron Man successfully disabled the electronic lock on the door of our cell._

“I don’t know what to say to you,” Steve blurts. He screws his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Tony looks at him for a moment, then tears his gaze back to the paper in front of him. “I’ll try to pretend you didn’t, then.”

Tony surveys the handwritten code, trying to force his attention to stay on it, away from what Steve is accidentally saying. Tony can’t be entirely sure he’s remembered all the code perfectly. He spreads the notebook pages over the bedspread to look at them simultaneously. He picks up one here or there to make a note about a function or algorithm.

He tears off the top sheet of the pad. He scrawls, _while (peopleWhoExist(SteveRogers) && peopleWhoExist(TonyStark) == true) { TonyStark.inLove(SteveRogers, unrequited); } _

He tears the sheet of paper into tiny flakes.

“Why don’t you know what to say?” Tony asks. He looks abashed as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, no direct questions.”

Steve chews on his lip and keeps his eyes fixed on his notepad. _Iron Man shut down the alarms and located our gear. I engaged with 5 guards and recovered their weapons, passkeys, and commlinks_ , he writes. Then, as if an outside force has taken control of his hand: _I checked out Iron Man’s voluptuous rear end while I waited for him to finish with the computers_ —

Steve sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

He carefully draws lines over what he’s just written, over and over so even the imprint of the letters in the paper is mixed into an illegible scribble.

Tony glances over at him and succeeds in not saying, _I wish I knew what you’re accidentally writing_.

Steve starts a new sheet of paper and stares at it, forcing himself to continue with a straightforward summation of the mission. _After recovering the arc reactor containing the armor, we followed standard procedure_ , he starts to write.

“I set it up so it would be just the two of us on this mission,” Steve says. His eyes fall shut once more and he scrubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Tony turns so he’s sitting facing Steve with his whole body. “It’s getting harder to filter what you say, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Steve says miserably, not opening his eyes.

“Me too.”

“You know everything I’m going to say,” Steve says. “That’s why I don’t know what to say to you.”

Tony barks out a short laugh. With his head thrown back, he misses the pained glance Steve sends his way. “I have no idea what you’re going to say.”

“I don’t mean word for word, moment to moment. I mean, what can I say that you don’t know? That will matter? I’m sorry I ruined everything between us. But that doesn’t solve anything. It—”

“You don’t want to be saying any of this,” Tony interrupts.

“I really don’t, but I don’t know if I can stop, I don’t know why you’re not saying more—”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not easy, I’ll tell you that. Look, why don’t you, I don’t know, lock yourself in the bathroom, and I’ll go as far as I can to the opposite side—”

“I don’t understand why you’re so kind to me.”

“C’mon, I’m dosed with this shit too, it’s not really fair to either of us—”

“I don’t just mean right now, I mean all the time, always. After Thanos, you just invited us back in, like nothing had happened. You’ve been on missions with me, with Bucky, with Sam. You’ve built us all new gear and I know it was your idea to put in that vegetable garden at the compound and you designed that—”

“A therapist told me once,” Tony cuts him off, speaking faster than Steve's ever heard him, “that I give people big gifts because my childhood led me to believe that the size of a product is equivalent to how much affection should be given in return.” He jerks his head back as soon as he finishes speaking and scrambles to his feet. “Shit, fuck, I hate this, do what you want, _I’m_ going to go sit in the bathroom with the door shut and sing every track from ‘Back in Black’ in order as loud as I can, if you’ll just excuse me.” He starts away, calls over his shoulder, “I’ll be vocalizing all the guitar parts too, so feel free to drown me out with whatever old-timey shit you know all the words to.”

“I don’t think that will work,” Steve says, as gently as he can.

Tony drops his expression of false joy and sinks face-first against a wall. “Got a better idea?”

“Maybe we can just talk.”

Tony laughs hollowly, the sound muffled from how his face is squished against the plaster of the wall.

“I mean, there must be a topic we can discuss honestly without saying things we don’t want the other to hear.”

Tony turns to face him slowly. “Name one.”

Steve frowns. “Baseball.”

Tony leans against the wall, his body pointed toward Steve but his eyes turned away. “I watched my first game of baseball right after I invited you to move into the tower because I hoped it would give us something to talk about. I stopped following it after Siberia because I kept thinking— _fuck_ , nope, nope, here we go: I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain/ I'm comin' on like a hurricane / My lightning's flashing—”

“How about basketball?” Steve interrupts in a rush.

“Uh, do you know anything about basketball?”

“I’ve never seen a game, but I like listening to you talk.” Steve winces at himself. “I mean—”

“No one likes listening to me talk,” Tony says. “Hey! Try to say something else that isn’t true. Maybe we can say white lies? Those khakis you wear are hideous and really hide the muscles in your thighs. Nope, hmm, maybe it’s just you, the super-serum finally kicking in. Or maybe it’s the power of the khakis, they’re so terrible I can’t even pretend to say something nice about them.”

“I do like listening to you talk,” Steve repeats.

“No, try something different.”

“Tony,” Steve chastises.

“Steve,” Tony says in the same tone of voice.

Steve sighs and shifts in his seat. “I can’t think of something to lie about.”

“Typical.”

“You aren’t—Tony I hid things from you for years and you’re surprised I can’t think of a lie?”

“Well, I’m obviously an exception, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Tony rolls his eyes and comes to sit near Steve on the same bed. “You think I’m an asshole.”

“How did you get that from anything I just said?”

“You expect me to bring up that shit, to throw it in your face every time we talk, apparently,” Tony says, his voice laced with bitterness. “No wonder you don’t know what to say to me.”

“Tony—”

“Okay, try this. Try to tell me you don’t mind my drinking.”

Steve frowns, a look of concentration on his face. “I hate how much you drink. I worry about you. I wish you—”

“Okay, experiment over. Look. I’m uncomfortable and you’re uncomfortable and I want it to be better. Can you think of something we can talk about without saying something we wouldn’t normally say out loud?”

“You pride yourself on transparency. Everyone knows what you think about them, you make sure of that. What is it that you wouldn’t normally say out loud?” Steve asks.

Tony leans back to look up at Steve’s face. “Uh, Cap, I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of the kind of thing we're looking for—”

“It’s getting harder.”

“That’s what she said.”

“It’s getting harder to not say _every_ stray thought that pops into my head,” Steve says quickly.

“That’s my excuse for the ‘that’s what she said’ joke, then.”

Steve shakes his head, as if to clear it. “You’re not blurting out as much as I am.”

Tony shrugs and spreads his arms. “Lots of practice, I guess.”

“But you usually talk so much more than I do.”

“Rogers, everyone talks more than you do.”

“I hate it when you do that.”

“I _knew_ you didn’t really like listening to me talk—”

“No,” Steve says forcefully. “I hate it when you call me Rogers.”

“That makes sense, I usually do it to create distance between—goddamnit.

“I’ll try to stop asking you about it. Or to ask you anything at all.”

Tony eyes him. “I’d appreciate that. Believe it or not this isn’t a picnic for me, either.” He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Although I think it says something unflattering about the two of us that the least pleasant part of a day where we fought in two battles while hopelessly outnumbered, were then captured, chained up, and injected with drugs against our will, is the part where we have to be honest with each other.”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Seriously, how are you doing this? One second it’s like I have a first-class ticket to your unconscious, the next you’re making these polite earnest lies like—”

“Why is that even when we’ve been dosed with truth serum you don’t believe me?”

“I’m not calling you a liar, Cap, just so Pollyanna-polite it’s breaking through a powerful drug—”

Steve’s eyes flash. “I’m not just being polite.”

“Every time you say something you don’t mean to say you look like you want to punch yourself in the face.”

“Yeah, as if you’re having a ball of a time not being able to control what comes—”

“Forgive me for trying to preserve boundaries—”

“Oh, come _on_ ,” Steve interrupts. “I know you hate me, what are you so afraid of saying?”

“I don’t hate you, you—did you really just ask me that? Again?” Tony shakes his head, his lip curling into a grimace. “3 point 1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 6, 5—”

“You don’t usually have a problem letting people know exactly what you think of them.”

“You want to know exactly what I think of you, do you? Think you’ll like what you hear?”

“I already know what you think of me,” Steve says. “To the extent you do at all. You care about the team and keeping the Avengers together. The rest speaks for itself. So what is it you’re trying not to say?”

Instead of replying, Tony fixes Steve with a pointed glare, meeting his eyes as he recites, “3, 5, 8, 9—”

“Tony. What are you afraid of letting slip?”

“You’re so sure it’s not about you, that you know exactly how little I think about you, well, obvious conclusion: you ever think maybe whatever it is I’m trying not to spill is none of your fucking business?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it so I can’t stop asking—”

“7, 9, 3, 2, 3—”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Tony covers his eyes with one hand. “8, 4, 6, 2, 6, 4, 3—pretty sure I’d tell you anything if you ask me directly right now—fuck—3, 8, 3, 2, 7—”

“I want to know what you’re afraid you’ll say.”

“9, 5, 0, 2—I used to know pi to a hundred digits, I swear. Stop distracting me and I’ll get up to at least fifty.”

“Tony,” Steve says, tugging on Tony’s arm. “I keep thinking it. I can’t stop saying it. What are you trying not to say?”

Tony moves the hand away from his eyes to glare at Steve. “Look, you’re distractingly hot and I think about you all the time, okay?”

“But you’re mad at me and I hurt you and you said all those things about those photos from before Rebirth—”

“You were gorgeous before Rebirth and if I’d met you back then I would’ve— _dammit_ —I wish we were in a cell being interrogated by AIM right now.”

“No you don’t.”

“Well I said it and I’m high on truth drugs so apparently I do,” Tony snaps. “You’re all upset because you’re spilling your guts but what have you even said, huh? What, like it’s news to me that you don't know how to talk to me, that you don't like my drinking? I’m supposed to be surprised that you feel uncomfortable every time I show how in love with you I— _fuck_!”

Tony jumps back to his feet and starts away from the bed. Steve grabs his wrist to stop him. “You’re in love with me?” Steve croaks.

“I thought you’d noticed, okay, let me put the armor on before you punch me—”

“I’m not going to punch you.” Steve keeps his voice steady only because he knows that if Tony were really frightened, he would have activated the armor already. “Can you talk to me, please?”

Tony glares down at Steve’s hand clamped around his wrist. “Between the grabbing and the truth serum, signs point to yes.”

Steve lets go of Tony and jerks his hand away. “Sorry, just—don’t go, okay? Why do you think that would make me uncomfortable?”

“Uh, I’ve seen the look on your face every time I talk about your body or try to flirt with you—”

“Tony, I thought you were—making fun of me, or trying to embarrass me—look, I, I’m not good at this. I’m in love with you too.”

Tony freezes. He blinks at Steve. “You’re in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Steve stares at him, incredulous. “What kind of question is that? I—god, Tony, I want to kiss you—”

Tony interrupts him off by diving forward and planting their lips together. At first their faces just bang together, and Tony loses his balance a little, but Steve grabs his biceps, holding him upright, and tries to figure out how to kiss back.

“Tell me something else that’s true,” Tony breathes.

“You’re the 4th person to ever kiss me.”

“Wow, Steve, that’s—”

Steve cuts him off with another lingering kiss. “I love it when you say my name.”

“Steve, Stevie-baby, Sweetcheeks, Sugarplum, Honeysuckle, if you want to hear the number of people I’ve—let’s go with ‘kissed’ how about—we’re gonna be here awhile, I might need to make a spreadsheet—”

“Stop that. I didn’t say it to make you feel bad.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I know that. I just don’t like thinking about some of the people I’ve been with, so I was trying to distract both of us.”

“Tony,” Steve says, and Tony doesn’t care for that tone of voice, not at all.

“Nuh-uh. Nope. Less pity, less feelings, more kissing, please,” Tony insists, nuzzling his face against Steve’s.

Steve acquiesces with slow, warm movements of his mouth. Tony’s not sure whether to catalog Steve’s efforts as clumsy or tentative, but quickly loses interest in the question. Steve feels giant and awkward but Tony keeps clutching onto him and kissing back, so he’s too elated to dwell on it.  

“How long could we have been doing this?” Tony asks. “How long have you wanted to?”

“You like it, then?”

“Of course I like it, it’s you.”

“But, I don’t want you to like it just because it’s me, I want you to like it because I’m good at it. You’re good at it, you—know what you’re doing.” Steve blurts this into Tony’s neck, glad that he doesn’t have to look Tony in the face while he speaks.

“I said ‘less pity,’ that includes self-pity, Cap—I mean Steve, my blossom, my dumpling, my sunshine, my gum drop. C’mon, tell me how long you’ve wanted to do this.”

“You also said ‘less feelings,’” Steve points out.

“I changed my mind. I wouldn’t lie, would I?” Tony leans back to look at Steve’s face. After a moment he scoffs and says, “Okay, I _would_ , but I currently can’t. Tell me, I’ll keep asking until you tell me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Neither was asking me over and over again what I was trying not to say.”

“But look where that got us,” Steve says, briefly smug.

“Steve. Steve. Steve. How long?”

Steve silences him with another kiss. Tony groans into his mouth and relaxes against him. Steve probes Tony’s tongue with his own, unsure of himself and his technique, just tasting Tony as much as he can.

“That’s cheating,” Tony says when he pulls away. “Captain America is a dirty cheater at conversations.”

“A long time,” Steve says, his lips still just centimeters from Tony’s. “Sometimes I think it’s since I met you. But I didn’t realize until after—after I’d gone.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Steve shakes his head. Isn’t it obvious? “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s so idiotic it’s obscene, of course you do.”

Steve had thought his heart couldn’t get any lighter than it already was, and then Tony says _that_. “Yeah? You think—after—everything?”

“Truth serum.” Tony is starting to be grateful for the stuff, which is perilously close to being grateful for AIM. “C’mon. Tell me something else that’s true.”

“Your turn.”

 _Fair enough_ , Tony thinks. “Figures you’d be all about reciprocation.” He inches closer to Steve, looks up into his eyes, and says, “I love you. It was killing me thinking you hated me but I didn’t know how to tell you I didn’t without giving everything away. How’s that?”

“What about when we get back?”

“I’ll still love you when we get back.”

“What about—everything else?” Steve asks.

“We’ll figure it out,” Tony promises. “Hey. Why did you put just the two of us on this mission?”

Steve cups Tony’s face with his hand. “I wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.”

“But you were barely talking to me.”

“I think we’ve established that I didn’t know what to say to you.”

“Well,” Tony says slowly, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist, “I hope _now_ we’ve established that if you want to woo me, all you need to say is every true thing that pops into your head.”

There’s a loud banging on the door.

Tony pulls away, frowning in the direction of the noise. “What do you think? AIM tracked us down, or the team’s here 14 hours early?”

“I hope it’s AIM,” Steve says, sighing and reaching for the shield on his back. “I don’t want to be around Natasha before this wears off.”

Tony taps the arc reactor, armor beginning to spill out of it and wrap around him. “Also,” he agrees, “if it’s AIM we get to punch whoever’s shown up to cockblock us.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post](https://dirigibleplumbing.tumblr.com/post/184254732202/every-true-thing-dirigibleplumbing-the) for the story.
> 
> Find me [on Tumblr](http://dirigibleplumbing.tumblr.com/).


End file.
